The evening had been a blur. Fleeing Mathias and the Anarki had been harrowing. All that climbing in trees and hunkering down inside bushes had been unnerving … but markedly less so with Ice’s protective presence beside her. Thankfully, her plan had worked. His relief when she reappeared within the half hour had been foolishly intriguing. Did he actually care about her beyond his own survival? With that question swirling in her mind, they’d slipped away from the Anarki.
Covered in mud and uttering few syllables, Ice directed her southwest, just over the Welsh border to Monmouth. Not far out of town, they’d found this charming stone bed-and-breakfast. Very out of the way, and Sabelle had used some of her siren gifts to persuade the manager that they had reservations for the night and had paid in advance.
Once inside, they’d locked all the doors and windows, and she’d ringed the place with her magical securities. Ice had done the same. As far as they could tell, no Anarki had followed them, but better to play it safe.
Then, despite being covered in mud, Ice offered her the shower first.
Though labeled by magickind somewhere between crazy and dangerous, he had put both her safety and comfort above his own time after time. Odd, considering he hated Bram.
Then again, every time she got near Ice, his body told Sabelle that he wanted her.
Quickly, she’d showered and settled Bram into one of the cottage’s two bedrooms. The smoke around her brother looked thicker, darker, than before. Cloying, choking. The labored sound of his breathing terrified her. His magical signature was fading … which meant his life would soon follow if they couldn’t find a way to break Mathias’s terrible spell.
Frustration eating at her like a disease, Sabelle slammed the door. She hated feeling helpless, but watching her brother die weighed her down with a sense of being powerless.
Taking Bram’s hand in hers, she crouched at the side of his bed and bowed in prayer, her forehead touching his unresponsive hand. This was not her brother. Bram was vital and bossy and amazing—and the only parental figure she’d ever really had. Lord knew her selfish mother had never cared for her, beyond however much offspring with Merlin’s blood in her veins was worth. Losing Bram … Devastating wouldn’t begin to describe her loss. She’d envisioned him beside her as she took a mate, had younglings, grew older. They’d laughed and fought and helped each other. Their bond, always strong, had become stronger since Mathias’s return. Eradicating magickind of the cancer the evil wizard spread through society was Bram’s most passionate cause. Sabelle didn’t know how she’d finish that work without him.
Hot tears stabbed at her eyes again. Exhaustion and fear overtook her defenses. Two minutes. She’d give in that long, then put on her brave face. Ice would want nothing to do with her tears. They had no time for foolishness.
Suddenly, the door to Bram’s bedroom whooshed open and bounced off the wall beside him. There stood Ice.
Sabelle leapt to her feet with a startled gasp, aware of hot tears burning her cheeks—and her stare glued to his body. Wearing nothing but a towel, he scanned the room for danger with wild eyes. Rivulets of water caressed their way down his corded neck, over his bulging shoulders that ate up the door frame, across a chest no doubt capable of bench-pressing a bus, and along the ridges of his six-pack abs … before being lapped up by the towel riding dangerously low on his lean hips. Dear God.
Finding the room empty of Anarki, Ice turned his fierce green eyes on her. They flared with heat. Her body sizzled as if she kissed a live wire.
“What’s wrong?” he barked.
“I—I . . .” She couldn’t find her tongue.
“I heard a door slam. Has anyone come? Are you in danger?”
Trembling, she ripped her gaze away from his massive chest rising and falling with each rushed breath.
“No.” She swallowed. “Sorry. Just me. I … was frustrated. Bram’s getting worse.”
Tears threatened again, and she didn’t want to show Ice her weakness. His body might want her, but the way he called her princess, almost a sneer … No. She wouldn’t reveal her vulnerabilities and give him a reason to mock her later.
Despite her resolution, a fat tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the inn’s black silk robe she’d wrapped around her. She swiped at her wet cheek.
Ice charged across the room. He reached out to take her hand, then stopped before touching her, his tattooed biceps flexing with restraint. Quickly, he glanced at Bram. His mouth took a grim turn down.
“Have you any other ideas that might heal him?”
Another painful weight settled on her heart. “None. Were you able to reach Duke and the others while I showered?”
“I don’t dare. If they’re being followed as well, any magical summons before we’re truly safe could be dangerous for all of us. And I didn’t have my damn mobile with me when the Anarki attacked.”
“Me, either. The phone in this cottage only rings the front desk; I checked. We’ll find a phone tomorrow.”
Ice nodded, then edged back. “I ordered food earlier. It should be here shortly.”
A lovely gesture, but Bram’s condition ruined her appetite. What if her brother never opened his eyes again?
Fear welled up inside her, and to her horror, fresh tears rushed. She couldn’t contain the flood. Her breath caught, and her vision blurred. Scalding tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes. She swiped at them, but couldn’t catch them fast enough.
Oh, God. She was again crying in front of Isdernus Rykard, for whom sympathy was likely as welcome as syphilis. His personality often matched his name, and magickind regarded him as both ruthless and crazed. A man like him doubtless had no patience for weepy women, particularly not when times called for strong ones.
Sabelle slapped a hand over her mouth and raced past Ice toward the bedroom door. His hot hand clamped around her upper arm and hauled her back, dangerously close to his large, warm body, still beaded with water.
With his free hand, he pulled hers from her mouth, staring at her with an expression somewhere between probing and puzzled. “Don’t fret. We will see him well.”
The gentle note in his voice shocked her, brought forth a fresh well of tears. “How? Th-that smoke is a mystery. No one has b-been able to figure—”
“Shh.” He laid a soft finger across her lips.
Ice’s touch on her sensitive mouth jolted her, as if her entire body was connected to her lips. “Don’t think him into the grave.”
She sent him a shaky nod. Positive thoughts would help her brother more than fear. “You’re right.” Drawing in a trembling breath, she felt the onslaught of more tears. Angrily, she wiped them away. “I’m sorry to be a weepy mess.”
He drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding. She winced, waiting for him to scold or bellow at her. Instead, he pulled her against him, pressing her body to his with an arm around her waist. He buried his fingers in her hair. A million starbursts erupted, scattered over her scalp, her very skin. The sensation sank bone deep, fracturing her thoughts, her composure, her heartbeat. His heat seeped into her, cementing his impact on her, searing it inside her. He was hard. Again. Sabelle sucked in a breath.
“No apologies for tears. Bonds between siblings can be strong.”